


All ready

by StarsandSnow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hufflepuff Au, Sorting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 12:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15774456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsandSnow/pseuds/StarsandSnow
Summary: Hufflepuff AU, Harry Ron and Hermione as first years at their sorting ceremony.





	All ready

The moment Harry stepped inside the great hall, he felt uncomfortable and restricted. Suddenly he remembered for the second time after visiting Diagon Alley, that he would no longer be the inconsiderable, understated boy. 

Harry could sense the people, staring at his forehead, whispering his name. He just wanted to turn around and go... Where? The truth is, that he had nowhere to go. Never, never-ever would he go back to the Dursleys, and so he just tried to hide a bit behind his new friend, Ron, who was too busy looking around searching for his older brothers to notice his mate's panic. All of sudden, Harry felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned around to see the brown-haired girl with buck teeth from the train.

"It's going to be alright", Hermione whispered and pointed to the teachers table, "Look, Hagrid's there. You know him, right?" Harry took a glance and nodded. "Thanks." "No problem." 

With that, McGonagall began to lead the group through the hall, and Harry followed her, but not without showing the soon-to-be-called brightest witch of her age a warm smile first.

The hall still seemed oppressing, and the stares were still burning on the back of his head, but Harry felt better knowing that there was someone there who would protect him. 

Ron, in the meantime, was hyperventilating. Harry could see his excitement and nervousness by how his feet were shuffling about, as if he didn’t know whether to run away or get closer to see what was going to happen. Harry himself had no idea how they were going to be sorted, and he told the other boy so when he asked Harry. “Fred and George told me that I was going to be something like a trial, I think like battling a dragon, maybe a troll.”

Harry felt his stomach drop. How was he ever going to prove himself when he didn’t even know any magic? He needed to prove himself. That was the only way which would show everyone that he was not to be cast away, used for their needs. 

Harry didn’t realise he was starting to breathe heavily until McGonagall spoke. He carefully opened his eyes, ready to be met with the image of everyone staring at him, wondering whatever the hell was going on, thinking he was crazy or pathetic. Or both. He cracked his eyes open, trying to not breathe loudly as to not draw any more attention to himself.  
He had to let out a sharp breath as he realised the only person staring at him was Hermione, and she wasn’t looking at him with disgust - but rather with concern written across her features. He smiled at her, not wanting her to get worried about him, and she smiled back, the cornern not completely gone from her face. Then, she mutely nodded towards McGonagall, who was standing next to a worn out hat on a stool. 

He raised a questioning eyebrow at the bushy haired girl, knowing for sure that she’d listened to the professor’s explanation. She rolled her eyes at him, amused exasperation shown all across her face, and she had just opened her mouth when an elbow found it's way into Harry’s stomach. “Ow!”

His voice was hushed and slightly breathless. He glared at Ron for good measure, and the other boy shrugged apologetically.“Sorry mate, got a little too excited there, but did you hear what McGonagall just said?”

Harry threw a glance over his shoulder at Hermione, who seemed to be struggling to hold in a laugh. When she saw Harry looking at her, she suppressed her smile in a half-hearted look of exasperation.  
Harry turned back to Ron, and shook his head.“No, what did she say?”

Ron looked like he was about to burst from happiness. “The hat, Harry!“  
He then took a breath. “You only have to put the hat on to get sorted. No dragons,” He turned to the Gryffindor table to shoot a glare at his brothers, who gave him thumbs up. “or trolls.”

Harry almost didn’t hear his last few words due to the spike of relief that coursed through his body. Just like that, he relaxed, and smiled at the redhead.  
“Let’s do this.”

The redhead smiled back, and Harry turned to his side to find that Hermione had approached them and was standing with them now. He didn’t even have time to open his mouth to speak that—  
“Shhhh!” she chastised him. “The song’s starting!”

What?

She must have seen his expression because she hurried to explain.  
“It sings a song every year, to introduce the houses to the first y—” 

She was stopped, however, by a booming voice echoing in the hall.

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;”

At this point Ron turned to Harry with a bright smile on his face, which he returned happily.

“You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;”

Harry quite liked the prospect of this house, he felt like it was the truest of them all.

“Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;”

This definitely wasn’t Harry’s house, he thought with a snort. Maybe Hermione though, she definitely seemed smart enough.

“Or perhaps Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.”

Harry felt Ron’s ‘this is a no-go’ arched eyebrow, and he turned to find just that. However, Harry realised, the hat had never said that Slytherins were evil.

“So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The hall erupted in applause and cheering.

—

“Ron Weasley!” 

As soon as his friend’s name was called, however, the redhead cursed under his breath as nervousness replaced the previous excitement. Regardless, he stepped forward towards the stool.His face was a mask of terror and insecurities.  
Harry could imagine the flow of thoughts that must have been going through his head,

“What if I’m not in Gryffindor?  
Oh, my parents are gonna kill me if I’m not,  
Even worse, what if I get sorted in Slytherin.  
I can’t even imagine my mum’s face.  
Anger?  
Sadness?  
… Disappointment?”

After all, Harry had always had similar insecurities himself.

As his friend sat on the stool and McGonagall placed the hat on his head, Harry prayed that Ron was going to be sorted wherever his heart lead him to. Not in Gryffindor, where his whole family wanted and expected him to be in, but rather where he felt that he would best fit in. For his friend’s own good. Because, even though he had known him for merely a day, Harry knew that he deserved it.

He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t realise that the hat had made a decision. It stood taller, ready to proclaim the house.

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Time seemed to have come to a standpoint. The Hufflepuff table stood to cheer for their new addition, but the sounds seemed blurry and distorted. Ron seemed to have frozen on the spot, eyes wide open in disbelief, while the rest of the Weasleys were exchanging glances, wearing matching expressions of disbelief. Most of the professors who had been there to watch the new Weasley generation grow through the years were shook as well. Never in their career had they heard of a Weasley in a house that wasn’t Gryffindor.

Harry noticed though, that while all of the professors seemed stunned, the headmaster’s eyes seemed to be twinkling with mirth and knowledge.  
Before he could look into it any more, Professor McGonagall seemed to have been shaken out of her reverie and softly ushered Ron off the stool, at which point he numbly walked to the Hufflepuff table. 

Harry felt that the other boy was scared of his family’s reaction, was scared that they were going to cast him out because he didn’t live up to the ‘expectations’, and all ha wanted to do was go to his friend and comfort him, telling him that yes, of course everything is going to be alright, why wouldn’t it be?  
As he smiled at his friend’s rigid face, another name was called out.

“Draco Malfoy!”

Ah… yes. Malfoy. The boy who had seemed so much like his father, so much like a replica of him; it was almost like they’d been cloned. If Harry was a normal boy, normal parents, normal life, he’d probably consider the boy as an enemy. But seeing Dudley grow up being shaped by his parents, his every move, every word being controlled by them, had taught him something. He had seen the other boy get bribed to act a certain way with presents and food, so much that it had become a habit. At the end, Dudley had become a carbon copy of his Uncle.  
So Harry knew that he could change this boy, change him back to his real self, and hopefully that person will be someone who he could have fun with, someone pure. Until then...

“SLYTHERIN!”

Of course. No one was surprised while Malfoy strutted up to the Slytherin table filled with politely clapping students, but Harry began to think.

He thought while Hannah Abbot was sorted in Hufflepuff, while Neville Longbottom, much to the surprise of everyone, was sorted in Gryffindor, while Pansy Parkinson took her place next to a smirking Malfoy, and while Michael Corner was sorted in Ravenclaw.  
He thought until his name was called out, until the room fell in a deadly silence. If Harry had felt that the room was oppressing before, he would have had to rethink. That was nothing compared to the hundreds of eyes staring at his forehead as he stepped forwards. The stares were restricting, registering hs even move, studying him. What was even worse, however, were the whispers. They followed him as he stepped on the stairs, and as he slowly sat down on the stool. 

“Is that THE Harry Potter?”

“Does he have the scar?”

“Of course he has the scar, idiot. It’s on his forehead.”

“What house do you think he’s going to be sorted in?”

“He looks so small…”

Until…

“HarrY PoTteR!”

This was spoken loudly, as if someone was standing right behind him and was whispering in his ear. With a start, Harry realised that the hat had been placed upon his head.  
He prayed with all his heart not to be sorted in Slytherin. Yes, he did want to prove that Draco wasn’t really as bad as other people thought, yet, he still didn’t want to be put somewhere where he would be highly prejudiced and seen as potentially dangerous before he’d even had a chance to prove otherwise. 

Harry registered when the hat said, “Not Slytherin, huh?”, that it could hear his thoughts, so he repeated the same sentence over and over like a mantra, and clung to it like a lifeline.  
“Not Slytherin, anything but Slytherin.”  
“Are you sure?” The hat whispered, a hint of amusement playing in his voice, “it’s all in here, you know, and Slytherin could help you on your path to greatness.”

But Harry stood his ground. He thought about Ron, who had been sorted in Hufflepuff despite his wishes, and Hermione, who was still waiting to be sorted, biting her lip due to the nervousness, and that he couldn’t afford losing either of them. 

And the hat made is decision.  
“Well, better be…”

Pause. 

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

—

He wasn’t surprised. 

He remembered the hat’s song, and how Hufflepuffs were the loyal and fair, and had to admit that this was definitely the house for him. Also, Ron was in Hufflepuff, so there was no way that they wouldn’t be friends now. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.  
Apparently the whole student body thought otherwise. 

According to the whispers which followed him up to the loudly cheering Hufflepuff table, most people had expected him to end up in Gryffindor, the home of the brave at heart.  
Harry shrugged as he carelessly dropped on the bench next to a forth year Hufflepuff with dark blonde hair and kind eyes. He didn’t really care for the speculations.  
They sat through another pair of students being sorted, twins, one sorted in Gryffindor and one sorted in Ravenclaw, until their friend was finally called up to the stool. 

“Hermione Granger!”

Harry watched as the other girl stiffened up and whispered something to herself, probably some sort of encouragement and reassurance. Harry found himself leaning forwards on his seat as he wanted to run up to her and grab her hand, muttering words of support. 

Regardless of her nervousness, she made it to the stool and sat down slowly. As soon as she laid eyes on Harry and Ron, the later giving her a thumbs up and a wide grin, her lips thinned in a determined line, and her eyes burned ardent in resolution.

The hat was placed on her small head, and slid down enough to cover her face. Someone in the crowd sniggered. This way, however, Harry could not see her face, thus not having any idea of what was going on in the bushy haired girl’s head.

The hat took a lot of time to sort Hermione. Meanwhile at the Hufflepuff table, Harry and Ron awaited the decision with bated breath. After a few agonising minutes -more like hours, as Harry thought- the hat stood taller, alerting the hall of the fact that it had made it's decision.

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

In a split second, he and Ron erupted in loud cheers, as their friend hopped off the stool and skipped towards the Hufflepuff table, a wide smirk gracing her young face.  
She sat next to Ron and in front of Harry, and together they awaited the end of the sorting ceremony with three identical grins on their faces.

— 

When the ceremony had come to an end, with the last few students being sorted in Gryffindor —two, Ravenclaw —one, Slytherin —two, and one more addition to Hufflepuff, an unimaginable amount of food appeared on the tables, leaving all of the first years wearing slack-jawed expressions. 

The older years had laughed openly at their awestruck expressions, and the blonde student sitting next to them had explained that “house elves” —whatever they were— had prepared all of the food. As he said this, he helped himself with a generous portion of chicken. Hermione had worn a surprised expression.  
“That’s cruel! They shouldn’t be treated like servants!”

The forth year, Cedric, had tried to resign with Hermione, explaining her that the house elves apparently liked what they did, but she hadn’t budged, and after receiving a few glares and indignant huffs, he gave up and turned to Harry and Ron for help.

While Harry shrugged, Ron turned to Hermione.  
“C’mon, ‘Mione, it’s all so good, just enjoy it.” He said, his mouth still full of chicken wings, which caused him splutter everywhere. His hands, still holding another two pieces of chicken, flailed around. Hermione cringed away from Ron slightly, frowning.

As she reached for the mashed potatoes, however, a transparent hand reached for her shoulders from behind. She visibly jumped and Harry would have laughed, if it wasn’t for the hand still resting on his friend’s shoulder. Ron had cringed away and was practically sitting on the lap of another first year— Hannah Abbot, he remembered.

He didn’t get any time to reflect on it, that the hand disappeared and a chubby-looking body appeared instead. He was a slightly bluish, transparent man. Harry realised with a start that he was witnessing a ghost.

Cedric— once finished laughing at them, started explaining, “Oh— each of the four houses has its own ghost. Here in Hogwarts they’re common, so don’t get too scared by them. This is Fat Friar, our ghost.” He was still giggling at the first years’ fear of it, but they had sorted to relax once again, and Hermione opened her mouth, as if she had just remembered something.

“I remember you! I read about you in Hogwarts: A History. Weren’t you executed because of your magic?”  
The ghost nodded sadly, but then perched up at the prospect of telling his story to an interested party. Harry wasn’t too sure he was interested, he was too busy trying to subtly shy away from it, scared but not willing to show it. 

The Fat Friar had begun to speak. “…and then they executed me! Because they were growing suspicious of he way I cured the pox by merely ‘poking my stick at them’, as they said. They were also scared of my to-go trick.” He paused, obviously waiting for someone to ask what that was.  
No one dared, so Harry decided to save the ghost from humiliation, and asked, with his most interested voice, “Fat Friar, what was your go-to trick?”

He perked up again, a warm smile on his face as he regarded Harry. “It was kind of ill-advised, to be honest, but… I had a tendency of pulling rabbits out of the communion cup.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, remembering the few times she had seen such 'wizards' on TV.  
Apart from her, the whole table erupted in laughter. 

—

When the feast finished, they were let out of the Great hall and followed their prefect to their common room. Apparently the house elves had brought their luggages to their rooms already.  
As they walked by the Gryffindors out of the great hall, they heard a desperate voice say, “Oh no. I think I lost my sketchbook.” 

They all turned to reveal a first year Gryffindor, which Harry remembered was called— Seamus? No, the boy was Dean, Seamus was the one walking next to him— with his hands flailing around, one ending up in his back pocked as he searched his notebook.

Harry felt like he had seen it before, but couldn’t remember where. He wanted to help the boy though, and he tapped his friends on the shoulders to stop them.  
They approached the small boy and greeted him, at which he lifted his head with an expression of dismay. “Have you seen my sketchbook anywhere? I think I might have left it on the train.” 

Hermione shook her head slightly, then asked him if he remembered if he had it while being sorted, at which he shook his head slightly. “I don’t remember, I was paying too much attention to the actual sorting.” 

Harry laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder and muttered, “Don’t worry, we’re going to find it. How does it look like?”  
He perched up. “Well, it’s a black ring sketchbook, and it has all of my—“

“Wait,” a shy voice called. The group of five turned around to see Hannah Abbot, the blond Hufflepuff whom they had seen (and, in Ron's case, unfortunaltely, felt) before. Without further ado she scurried to the Gryffindor dining table and picked up a overlapping notebook. “Is it this one?”

“YES!” Dean shouted, and Hannah cringed slightly away, unconsciously putting a hand over her ear and then dropping it.  
He lowered his voice and muttered with a big grin on his face a “Thank you.”  
She smiled sheepishly. “You’re welcome.” 

— 

They all followed Cedric down the moving stairs— “Be careful, the stairs like to change.” “Wicked,” Ron whispered.— to the basement. They walked past an incredible variety of paintings, most of them moving ones, of course, a fact that still shook Harry. There were mostly paintings of famous wizarding people.

As they walked past a painting that depicted a bowl of fruit, Cedric crouched low to whisper to the first years, “That is the entrance to the kitchens. Only us Hufflepuffs now about it, so don’t go telling other students about it. All you have to do to enter is tickle the pear.” They all looked at him curiously, but no one actually believing him, so he sighed and encouraged them to see for themselves. “Go on, try it.” 

Ron, was delighted at the prospect of more food and carefully approached the painting. As he walked, he reached his hand towards the pear and slowly tickled it.  
To the first years’ surprise, it actually squirmed a bit under the touch, and as Ron increased the pace, it turned into a handle, which the redhead grasped firmly. 

He twisted it and opened the door to reveal an unimaginable amount of food stared up, plates flying all over the place, sponges cleaning up— some sort of magic—, and house elves bustling around overlooking it all. There were loud noises of plates clashing together, sponges rubbing, water running…

Cedric shut the door.  
There was no more noise, and the silence seemed full of wonder and surprise.  
“That. Was. Wicked.” 

After promising the boys that they’d be able to go back the day after, Cedric lead them to the basement, and stopped in front of a star of barrels.  
The first years all looked at him in confusion. Harry figured that the barrels were some ind of entrance to the common room, but he wasn’t too sure, at least until Cedric explained, “This is the entrance to the common room. All you have to do is tap this barrel,” he said, pointing to the barrel at the bottom, “in the correct rhythm. If you get it wrong, all it will do is pour some vinegar on you.” 

Hermione, being the everlasting smart girl, asked, “So, what is the correct rhythm?”  
Cedric turned to her, a warm smile on his face.  
“Listen carefully,” he said. And he tapped the barrel 5 times, like this. 

Tap-tap, pause, tap-tap-tap.

“It’s the rhythm of the syllables of Helga Hufflepuff. Hel-ga, Huff-le-puff.” Cedric explained, and harry was glad he did. At least that way he could remember it easier.  
Hermione’s eyebrows were high up, indicating her surprise at the entrance. Harry turned and was met with an impressive sight which made him smile. 

A sloping, kind of earthy passage was inside the barrel, and Harry figure they had to go that way to get to the common room. He followed Cedric in, making sure that the others were following by singling to them with his hand. They all followed him, Ron more enthusiastic than the others, bouncing in the passage straight after Harry, on his hands and knees. Hermione followed a bit less eagerly, but still entered the passage nonetheless. Hannah Abbot was last, crouching down and following Hermione with a small smile on her face that showed Harry how much she liked the house she was placed in. 

The passage turned somewhat upwards and continued on until they came out into a cozy, round, low-ceilinged room. Harry had to close his jaw suddenly when he realised he had stood there like a gaping fish. As he turned to see Ron, Hermione and Hannah doing the same, however, he was relieved. 

The common room was simple but seemed comfortable and somehow familiar, reminding him of lost times when he still lived with his parents. The room was how he imagined he felt like with his parents, and what his house would have been like. The room was decorated in the cheerful, bee-like colours yellow and black. These were emphasised by the use of highly polished, honey coloured wood tables and the round doors which lead to the dormitories, Harry imagined. There were mustard coloured sofas all around, and a lit fireplace that casted warm shadows around the room. As Harry looked around, he noticed a colourful amount of plants and flowers which seemed to relish the atmosphere of the common room. He could see cacti, ferns and ivies, the later two dangling from the ceilings which caused them to brush over Harry’s head as he walked under them. All-in-all, Harry loved it.

After Cedric had shown them to their dorms, and Harry and Ron had bid goodnight to Hermione and Hannah, they went to sleep. They slept peacefully, with dreams full of wonderful food and new friendships.

They were all ready to start their first year at Hogwarts, ready to practice their magic, ready to learn, to fly, to have fun, laugh, make new friendships, love, but most importantly, they were ready to enjoy it.

—


End file.
